


How It Is

by Diva0789



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Stand Alone, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diva0789/pseuds/Diva0789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd spent his whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop.<br/>Only, three years later, it hadn’t.</p><p>Or the one where Ian goes off to join the Army and Mickey follows him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Is

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, like always. In this fic Terry is dead. He never walked in on our boys and Mandy never ran over Karen, so her and Lip are still going strong.
> 
> Also I have just been informed that there is a lot of swearing in the fic - I sort of thought that would be obvious considering.....
> 
> But, uh, Mickey says fuck a lot?
> 
> So read at your own risk, I guess.

Things were so much different than they had been. After Ned, and then the kiss, Mickey had sort of expected him and Ian to go to shit. Yeah, maybe they’d be good for a while but someone, somewhere would put an idea in Ian’s head; he’d push and hint for something and Mickey wouldn’t be able to give it to him and that would be it. Something always happened; he’d never for a moment thought he might get to have something, something _real_. He’d always known that he was no good, that Ian deserved better. Mickey was a realist. He wasn’t so far gone to think Ned would give a shit about Ian once the novelty wore off or reality intruded, but he’d known that at some point Ian would find someone who could give him the things that Mickey couldn’t. He’d spent his whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Only, three years later, it hadn’t.

They were still together; still devoted to one another. There hadn’t been anyone else for either of them since Ned and Angie. Shit, they’d reached the point where they didn’t even bother with condoms anymore. They’d both gotten tested and then spent the weekend fucking bare, and reveling in it, when the results came back.

Which wasn’t to say they didn’t have fights; they fought practically all the fucking time. It was like foreplay for them, but it was rare that it was a serious.

There’ d only been one truly horrible fight between them in three years, and that was when Ian had joined up for active duty after graduation. He hadn’t gotten into West Point, and Mickey was still fucking irritated about that even though Ian had moved on and put it behind him, but he’d still wanted to serve.

After Ian’s graduation party they’d headed up to Ian’s room to celebrate privately. At this point, the whole fucking Gallagher clan knew about the two of them; even though Fiona didn’t really get it or approve, she knew she couldn’t make Ian change his mind so she let it go. Mickey was still surprised every fucking day when he realized that Ian had fucking picked him. They hadn’t started out so good and Mickey had done his level fucking best to push Ian away but Ian kept coming back, like a fucking boomerang.

Anyways, they’d tumbled onto the bed together and fucked each other so good. It was still a novelty for Mickey, the way Ian made him feel; safe and happy and like he could fucking laugh and let his guard down.

They’d still been panting, covered in sweat and hickey’s, when Ian had turned to look at him and dropped the bomb. He wasn’t exactly sure why it surprised him so much since Ian had been talking about the Army for fucking years but it was still like a bucket of fucking ice cold water being dumped over his head when he heard the words.

It ended up in a screaming match and Mickey saying a bunch of shit he didn’t mean, hating himself even more when he saw the hurt he inflicted but couldn’t stop spewing his bullshit. He’d stormed off and they didn’t speak to each other for days. The first night he stewed in his own frustration and had himself a fucking pity party; getting drunk off his ass and telling himself he’d be better off without the red-head. Only the cold light of day had him looking at the situation a whole fucking lot differently.

Mandy was already gone with Lip, Terry was fucking six feet under; Ian was the only fucking thing keeping him here. Not once had Ian ever said he wanted to be apart from Mickey.

It was second nature for Mickey to pretend he didn’t want anything; he was never fucking disappointed that way, but he and Ian had been through too much together for that shit to fly. Mickey was the king of bullshit but he never fucking lied to himself. He wanted Ian. He’d taken a fucking bullet for Ian; he’d gotten himself locked up for that kid. There was nothing he wouldn’t fucking do, he realized when he really thought about it, for his boy – including leave Chicago.

He didn’t know what the fuck he would do when he followed Ian, it’s not like the Milkovich name would inspire fear and respect anywhere outside this fucking city. He’d need to get a job and a place to live. He’d be able to survive on the street for a while but he wasn’t living in a fucking shelter forever and winter was fucking too cold to be sleeping under bridges. He could always run cons, pick pockets, that sort of thing; but he kind of wanted to start fresh. If he was really gonna do this, he wanted to make a fucking life for himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be much, but it would be his, his and Ian’s.

He could do this for Ian. He _would_ do this for Ian.

So he started making plans. He started going through his shit, picking what he wanted to take with him and what he couldn’t give a shit about. He packed as much as he could fit in a duffle and a backpack – and then he went to work. He hustled day and night, barely eating and sleeping, to start saving himself some cash. He’d need bus fare to wherever Ian was stationed and enough for food and smokes; maybe a little extra to live off of if he could swing it.

It took him three days to gather 3500 bucks; all small bills. He rolled it up into random amounts, fifty here, a couple hundred there, a twenty in his shoe, and tucked it all throughout his shit, keeping some on his person in case his shit got stolen or lost. Then he called Mandy to let her know his plans- and then called all the utility companies to get all the lights and shit turned off for the house. His fuckhead brothers could deal with the rest if they fucking gave a shit, but Mickey was out. The last thing he did before heading to the Gallagher house was ditch his cell and get a new burner.

He was running; he didn’t want anything to do with the South Side when he left.

It occurred to him as he was making his way down the block to Ian’s house that Ian might not want him anymore, after the shit he said. He’d said worse, that was for fucking sure, but back then he hadn’t made any promises. Ian expected more from him now and Mickey had fucked it up.

He felt sick at the thought but he was too far gone to give up now. He’d say his piece, either Ian forgave him or not but he was still leaving.

He couldn’t stay here when Ian was gone, probably off to get himself killed. He’d drive himself fucking mad with worrying. He’d probably do it anyway, wherever he ended up, come to think of it.

He needn’t have worried. Ian would always choose him, though he didn’t know it at the time.

He went in the back way, ignoring the curious looks at his luggage and black stares from Fiona as he headed up the stairs. He didn’t pause to knock or hesitate in Ian’s doorway. Once Mickey had his mind made up, nothing could change his mind; except for Ian.

He just walked right in and dropped his bags, closing and locking the door behind him before he faced a frowning Ian. He saw Ian’s gaze drop to the bags on the floor before it moved back to him.

“Mick?” he questioned.

“I’m fucked up,” Mickey started; his gaze locked on Ian’s, “I’m probably going to hurt you again and again, I don’t know how not to; but you’re mine, Gallagher. If you’re leaving Chicago I’m coming with you. I’ll follow you all over the fucking country if I have to but you’re not leaving me behind.”

He was watching carefully, so he saw Ian’s face soften.

“I was trying to ask you to come with, Mick, not telling you we couldn’t be together anymore.”

Mickey swallowed at that. Fucking Ian always knew how to read him, always fucking had. It used to terrify him – not anymore.

Mickey didn’t wait any longer, moving forward with purpose to pull Ian close. The last few days had been the longest they’d been apart for over a year. Mickey hated it.

He moved his hands over Ian’s skin, reacquainting himself with familiar territory. They kissed deeply, tasting each other with relish, secure once more with each other’s affections.

They’d left soon after, Mickey following when Ian went to boot camp and then again when Ian was given his first posting.

It hadn’t always been easy; Mickey had a hard time finding a job, having to resort to pick pocketing a couple of times just to eat, but eventually they settled in one of the Carolina’s and Mickey was able to find work at a diner, working in the back during the day, and an auto garage in the evenings. He was thankful for the two jobs when Ian was shipped overseas to Afghanistan with the rest of his unit.

He’d gained, instead of lost, weight while Ian was gone. He worked so much and ate so little, just enough to keep him from getting sick, and stopped drinking and getting high completely – every pound he gained was pure muscle. He’d always kept himself fighting fit; it was fucking necessary in the South Side, especially if you were a Milkovich but without the beer and drugs it was so fucking easy to bulk up.

He hadn’t even noticed until his clothes stopped fitting and he had to fucking go out and buy some more.

In short, Mickey Milkovich grew up. He paid his bills on time, he kept his mouth mostly shut, and his fucking nose clean.

The small coastal town they lived in didn’t have much by the way of excitement anyway; it was pretty easy to stay out of trouble.

Ian had been gone for 18 months. He’d retuned only a few weeks ago and Mickey had taken a vacation from both of his jobs. By now, everyone knew that he was in a relationship with Ian. They’d had some issues with young punks running their homophobic mouths but Ian in his uniform and Mickey’s ever present scowl seemed to deter them, for the most part. After a while the community seemed to accept that they were there to stay and no one looked twice at them anymore.

It was kind of nice, actually.

Both of his bosses had given the time off he’d asked for without issue. He’d never missed a day of work so they figured he’d earned it.

Mickey didn’t really care why, as long as he got to spend some uninterrupted time with his boy. It didn’t matter that Ian was over 20 now. He’d always be Mickey’s boy.

Ian didn’t seem to mind in the least.

~*~

Moans filled the air of their bedroom, as well as the sound of skin slapping together.

“Fuck,” Mick gasped, shoving back into Ian’s thrusts.

Ian hissed, “Fuck, I missed fucking this ass, babe.”

“You fucking better have, Firecrotch. That dick is just for me.”

Ian moaned sharply at that, shoving harder and deeper; Mickey couldn’t hold back his cry as his prostate was tagged brutally.

“Fuck yes,” Mickey whimpered, “Right there. Give it to me, Ian.”

Ian growled and hammered into Mickey, enjoying every cry and curse.

At that pace, neither of them lasted very long; coming with loud cries within seconds of each other.

They collapsed next to each other on the bed, panting loudly.

“Fucking aye,” Mickey swallowed, “I missed your fucking cock.”

Ian rolled closer, draping himself over Mickey’s body possessively.

“I missed you, baby. You have no fucking idea how much.”

Mickey turned at that and met Ian’s gaze, “I think I have an idea.”

Ian’s eyes softened at that, he leaned in for a sweet kiss that Mickey was happy to give.

“I love you,” Ian murmured.

“Love you too, kid. Go to sleep. You have to be back on base in the morning.”

Ian snuggled in and Mickey let him.

It didn’t bother him anymore; the pet names and the way Ian always wanted to be in physical contact, the overwhelming feelings that Ian brought out in Mickey. He’d grown used to them.

Every time Ian called him baby, he could feel himself flush with warmth because Ian still wanted him; still loved him after all this time.

So yeah, sometimes Mickey still had to pinch himself - but he’d stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ian was his, would always be his. There was a velvet box in his nightstand with a platinum band inside that would soon be on Ian’s finger for everyone to see.

Nothing could separate them. Not the South Side, not war or Mickey’s own stupidity. Not even death could keep them apart. Where Ian Gallagher went, Mickey wouldn’t be far behind.

That was just how it was.

**Author's Note:**

> R&R please and thanks!


End file.
